


A Little Haunted

by fufaraw (arliss)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-27
Updated: 2018-06-27
Packaged: 2019-05-29 06:39:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15067358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arliss/pseuds/fufaraw
Summary: Written for a friend's birthday, a long time ago





	A Little Haunted

Seattle again. Damn, they couldn’t seem to stay out of the Northwest for any length of time, and he’d just love it if it were Florida or New Orleans or even freaky-deaky SoCal. At least it was warm there, and the sun shone, and you didn’t feel like you were growing moss if you stood in one place too long.

He shook his coat collar to scatter as much wet off it as he could before he walked down the bus aisle to a seat. Commuter time, there weren’t many empties, but he scored one between a secretarial-looking woman and a guy in scrubs under his jacket. The woman was nose-deep in a book, the guy had iPod buds in his ears, eyes closed, head nodding to the inaudible music.

There had been a rash of unexplained disappearances in the farming community of Lynden, and from the reported circumstances it sounded like it might be a case. They’d driven out to do some preliminary investigation, and the picturesquely neat, clean, square-cornered, and pool-table flat town with its windmills sprouting everywhere—on a café, a real estate office, out of people’s lawns—gave Dean a serious case of the creeps.

Sam had the car today, off at the Uni library, doing bone-dry research on the town’s Dutch settlers, and while they were here in the city, Dean was headed to an apothecary in Chinatown, to stock up on some of their more esoteric herbs and possets. The list in his pocket crackled under his fingertips.

Movement across the aisle caught his eye and he met a startling pale blue-green gaze, framed by short hair the perfect shade of red—though that shade had never occurred in nature. He let a small smile soften his features as he nodded, and let his gaze move on.

She didn’t reciprocate. Her eyes went back to the device in her hands; her thumbs were a blur of motion as she entered text. Sam would appreciate the dexterity, he thought, and then grinned as his observation slid into different territory. He glanced back at her and caught her watching him. Again, she didn’t accord him the politeness of a stranger’s smile, simply dropped her gaze to her miniature screen and continued to ply her thumbs.

Heh, he thought, unable to help himself. Ply her thumbs. He’d like to show her…

Something distracted him from that train of thought. Not so much a chill as a…warmth? A feeling of heat, that had no source that Dean could identify, except that as he raised his gaze to her again he could see it shimmer in the air around her. He stilled, the senses trained by long years of experience going into search and discover mode. She was surrounded. Haunted? Yes, in a way, but it didn’t look or feel like the usual ghosts that clung to some people. There were, for lack of a better word, entities surrounding her, but they seemed connected to her more by her will than theirs. None of them seemed unwilling, or eager to escape, and they didn’t feel like ghosts. He could almost see them now, though, even in daylight, swirling about her person, one of them hovering just behind her shoulder, a lean, careworn face, handsome, even in his glasses, another a tall black man with an easy stance and a rock-steady air about him. Others: a small, blonde woman with an air of invincibility and vulnerability, a brunette exuding bravado and sex to hide childhood trauma, and—god, was that—Henry Kissinger? Ew.

Seemingly oblivious to Dean’s scrutiny, the redhead continued to text, the characters around her solidifying and fading as she worked. Air brakes hissed, and she stowed the device in a capacious coat pocket, before those incredible eyes raised to meet his own. As she rose to exit her smile hit him squarely in the solar plexus. His lips parted, but no words came and he watched her turn to go—was that a blush? He could only watch her leave, and wonder.


End file.
